Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Think you underestimate them. I’m just gonna grab a boot that will fit those baby feet of yours.”
“What’s the verdict?” Christopher asked as he came back in.
“A boot. At least for a week. Then I can see how I feel.”
“Not too bad then.”
“Salvatore thinks I’m not going to be allowed to work.”
“That’s probably true.”
“I have a job to do.” And an income I need to earn.
“You have a target on your back. If it’s really important to you to be open, Lorenzo might be willing to swing it with a few guards. And after you’ve taken a couple days off to heal.”
I could deal with that. It wasn’t like I was making a huge amount of money every day anyway. It was more important to be open over the weekend. I could force them to let that happen.
“Are the kids going to be okay with me staying at your place? That’s not too much? After… everything?”
“I think they’re gonna like the company. Especially Charlotte. Hope you don’t have big expectations for your room. I took the smallest one.”
“Of course you did.” His head tilted, brows pinching. “It’s just that kids have this whole world. All their junk they collect and hobbies. We have… work. And if we’re lucky, an hour or two to read a book or watch a show before bed. We don’t need the big rooms.”
“Yeah. I knew I’d have to hit work hard when we got back to the city, so it wasn’t a big deal to lose the space. Miss the primary closet, though. Half of Liam’s shit ends up on the floor anyway.”
“Alright, got the boot,” Salvatore said, coming into the room to slip it carefully on me. Then gave me a bottle of pain meds whose origins I chose not to ask about.
“How is it?” Christopher asked as I took a few tentative steps.
“It’s… sore. But I can—” I lost the rest of that sentence as I was swooped up into his arms.
“Ready to go home?”
It was just a turn of phrase.
It meant nothing.
Yet try telling that to my skipping heartbeat.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Alara
I had no idea what my expectations were for Christopher’s apartment, but I was pleasantly surprised by what I found.
The general base of it was masculine, understandably. It had rich leather couches, dark woods, and a fundamental lack of fabrics (carpets, curtains). But there was warmth around, evidence of the kids scattered about: shoes near, not in, the shoe cabinet behind the door; two of those big, extra-soft stuffed animal creatures as pillows on the couch; books on the coffee table; book bags sitting on the round dining table’s chairs; a forgotten cereal bowl on the counter.
I liked the details, the texture that said a family lived here—not perfectly, but happily.
“This is Char’s room, obviously,” Christopher said.
I’d insisted he put me down when we got into his apartment, but he was lending an arm for me to lean on as I hobbled through his space.
The whole space screamed Charlotte. The bright colors, the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stuffed animals, collection of blankets and pillows, and the overall neatness.
“And Liam.”
Liam’s room was definitely messier and without a real theme to it. His bed was unmade, with a sketchpad, headphones, and a random empty plate on top. His nightstand had three cans of different sodas, a coffee cup, and an empty snack bag of chips. And, yeah, most of the clothes were near instead of inside the laundry basket. But overall, it wasn’t awful. Just a typical kid who likely needed to be nagged to clean up. And a guardian with a lot on his plate.
“And this is where you’re staying.”
The room was significantly smaller than the other two. So much so that the queen-sized bed took up most of the floor space and still had to be bumped up against two walls to make room for a small dresser. But there was a TV and a tiny nightstand with a lamp. It would definitely do. Plus, the whole space smelled like him.
“Wait, I should change the sheets,” he said as I dropped onto the side of the bed.
“Are they dirty?”
“No, but I slept in them last night.”
“I’m not that nitpicky,” I said, pulling myself up, my foot immediately throbbing once the pressure was off.
“I only have one extra pillow,” he said, fetching it and sticking it under my foot. “I’ll send Liam out later to get something to prop it up higher.”
“Is it nice?”
“Is what nice?”
“Having little live-in servants?”
To that, he snorted.
“When I can convince him to do something, yes. I haven’t needed to see the inside of the grocery store in a week. How about I get you some coffee so you can take one of those pills? And don’t say you don’t need them; your face is all tight.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He handed me the remote and moved out of the bedroom.